-----Cold---------

Her fingertips were cold, but still had undertones of warmth and traces of life. She pulled the keys from her jeans pocket, arms beginning to shudder and quiver with the lack of body heat. It hadn’t snowed in a few days, but she knew it would again soon, because the sky was a collecting grey rather than a consistent pale. She shoved the keys in, and twisted, fumbling for the car door. Even her bones felt frozen. Once she managed to twist the ignition, she knew, with the emerald glow coming from the keys, she was home free. The heat cranked up to full capacity, counteracting the 5 degree outside world. Lyla sat still for a long time, like a doe would, raising its head in concern, holding herself steady, big eyes looking into the distance. And soon enough, little white flakes began to drift from the sky, and Lyla put her silver forester into drive. She took the back road home, knowing fully well the main road would be sanded first. The snow first fell slowly and quietly, something Lyla could relate to, but it soon began to fall more steadily, in inches, rather than flakes. The sky was beginning to darken, which didn’t stop the children from running into the yards with excited dogs, their mothers trailing behind them with their scarves and hats, wishing to protect them from more than the cold. Lyla turned the corner, pausing at the bright stop sign, her car sliding a little in the snow, but clearing the hill as she silently thanked her Subaru for its superior snow skills. Her winter playlist was soft and sweet in the background, the radiating heat beginning to fog the windows. Most of the trees were stripped bare by the chilling month of November; some had a few dry and cracked leaves barely holding on, as if the slightest motion could make them lose their grasp. The foothills had rusty dry grass, barely visible now from the snow, and Lyla scanned the horizon, eyes deep brown and cindery, like her skin, a cold flame. The mountains were hidden by the thick curtain of velvety grey clouds, whispering of the upcoming ski season. And as Lyla pulled into her driveway, she wondered if she would ever feel warm again.

Subscribe

Get Teen Ink’s 48-page monthly print edition. Written by teens since 1989.